Coralynn: Friday
by TheQuestionIsAlwaysMangoes
Summary: They met on a Friday, when a flock of felons crashed chaotically through her soon-to-be ex-boss's liquor stash.


Dr. Coralynn Rodriguez was not particularly pleased with the current situation- and really, what doctor _would_ be okay with a bunch of FBI Agents running rampant through their practice breaking things. The only thing that even sort of rectified the situation was the fact that a bunch of shady-looking types were being chased and that the agents actually had a goal that would probably benefit society. She sighed and curled up under her desk to wait for the chaos to end.

She jumped as a loud crash echoed through the small building, closely followed by the tinkling sounds of small shards of glass hitting the floor.

 _I wonder, was that the window or the good doctor's 'medicine' cabinet?_ _Good riddance either way._

That crack in the window had always bothered her anyhow, and the world could always do with one less alcoholic physician. Everything went silent for a moment, and then came a few gunshots and the loud, "We need a medic!" from somewhere in the back.

She sighed.

 _Duty calls._

She hopped over the desk (as to avoid the surrounding wreckage, of course) and moved quickly to her bosses office, where she supposed they must be, grabbing her "upgraded first aide kit" as she went. Her first look in Dr. Holloway's office had her rolling her eyes at the carnage before scanning across the people on the ground.

Bad guys? Dead. Obviously; headshots like that would kill anyone.

Agents? Good, good, good...Yikes.

She hurried over to the beanpole on the ground, ignoring his ridiculous hair for the moment and moving on to the bleeding shoulder he was holding (it was attached, he wasn't a zombie) and getting to work.

"So," she started, not looking up, "come here often?"

"OW! W-what?" he asked, wincing.

"Do," she pulled off the bulletproof vest, "You," cut open his shirt, "Come," wrinkling her nose at the bloody wound, "Here, often?" She pulled on her gloves and started to clean it.

"Wouldn't you have seen me if I did?"

"Not if you weren't here during my shift. Turn a little? Holloway's lights are weird- there we go, now bite this."

"Mmph? MMPH!"

She pulled the bit of foam out of his mouth and chucked it over her shoulder.

"So, you seem young to be an agent. Skinny, too."

"I'm a genius with several degrees and an eidetic memory."

"That explains it. So what do you do exactly?"

"We're profilers. We-" he flinched, though didn't move his shoulder. "We look at what serial killers and things are normally like and use that to catch other ones."

"That," she paused, thinking fast, "Is really vague. Tell me more."

The beanpole proceeded to talk the entire seventy-four seconds it took her to stitch him up and check her work, but it was so fascinating that she made him keep going while she checked everyone else over, only occasionally asking him questions to keep him going. She found that she actually enjoyed talking to him. He didn't waste any time trying to speak slowly and spoke clearly without using the usual vernacular of the majority of their generation. Plain straight talker.

 _Wouldn't it be nice if everyone talked like that._

After everyone else had moved out to let the first-or rather second-responders deal with the scene, they continued their conversation.

"I'm sorry about your office." He said.

"Yes, well, today was the end of my two weeks anyways."

He looked confused. "You already resigned?"

"Yeah, a week and six days ago. Keep up Doc." She nudged his side.

"Where are you going from here?"

"I've got a job offer in D.C. as a Chiropractor."

He screwed up his eyebrows. "But aren't you-"

"You're not the only _genius with multiple degrees_ around. Besides, I was only here for experience. There's a lot more going on out there, I might even find a different job so I can put my music degree to good use."

"You play an instrument?"

"I play _all_ of the instruments."

Before he could find a suitable response to that, her phone rang.

"Crap! Hello?...Yeah, it's my number idiot...I'll be there in seventeen minutes…"

She reached over and pulled the beanpole's phone out of his pocket, quickly putting in her number before handing it back.

" _Call me!"_ She mouthed, before grabbing her bags and taking off toward her truck, still talking on the phone.

She didn't see him gaping after her, nor did she notice his team amusedly watching the exchange.


End file.
